


Lucid Dream

by Nia_Kantorka



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal, M/M, Oral Sex, canon typical violence mentioned, graphic descriptions of dreams and nightmares, switching implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nia_Kantorka/pseuds/Nia_Kantorka
Summary: After the fall Hannibal and Will settle down and everything seems perfect. Except that hallucinations and dreams about water are plaguing Will. They get more and more daunting until Will realizes something isn't right at all.





	Lucid Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the anonymous prompter on [Dreamwidth](https://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/4963.html?thread=8375139#cmt8375139) that let me use their great premise for this Murder Husbands Big Bang - it was truly inspirational. Our [mod](https://murder-husbands-big-bang.tumblr.com/) did a fantastic job organizing the whole fest. Thank you!
> 
> [Candamira](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Candamira/pseuds/Candamira), as always your ideas and feedback were invaluable. Thank you! My wonderful Fannibal friend [ ElectraRhodes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraRhodes/pseuds/ElectraRhodes) looked this fic over for me - you should be all glad about it too as otherwise the story would still be a mess.
> 
> That the wonderful [felineladyy](http://felineladyy.tumblr.com/) claimed this story and created such beautiful [pictures and header](http://felineladyy.tumblr.com/post/165911284874/murder-husband-big-bang-art) for it was an honor. Her art is a great match for Will and Hannibal as portrayed here. Thank you very much for such a lovely collaboration! ♥
> 
>  **2018/03/28** : Now with commissioned art by the wonderful and talented @leWendigogo (twitter)! Thank you so much for that beautiful pic! *squeal*

**Lucid Dream - art by[felineladyy](http://felineladyy.tumblr.com/post/165911284874/murder-husband-big-bang-art), story by [niakantorka](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/niakantorka) for [Murder Husbands Big Bang 2017](https://murder-husbands-big-bang.tumblr.com/)**

 

> A lucid dream is a dream during which the dreamer is aware of dreaming. During lucid dreaming, the dreamer should be able to exert some degree of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment. (coined by Frederik van Eeden and others)

_"You can't think decently if you're not willing to hurt yourself"  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

They fell from the bluff, clutching each other. Acceptance, support, and love escaped through vast panels of Hannibal's usually tightly guarded mind. His own swirling emotions of seeing and being seen culminated with Hannibal's and Will gasped for air, before a solid wall of ice-cold Atlantic hit him. Water flooded his mouth and Will thrashed around, until Hannibal's grip got stronger at his waist, calming Will down.

They had fought and killed the Dragon side by side and afterwards Will had thrown them off the cliff. It had been… too much for him in this particular moment. Now, both severely injured and drowning, Will didn't fear separation anymore. They were conjoined, had been for so long, and even a dire need for oxygen or an impending darkness couldn't alter their course.

Everything turned quiet.

_"We are asleep. Our life is a dream. But we wake up sometimes, just enough to know that we are dreaming."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

Will woke up, brain sluggish, throat parched. Silently, with closed eyes he took stock. The mattress swayed and under the rolling motion pain throbbed dull in his whole body, cumulating in his right shoulder and spiking like shards in his cheek. On the left side a warm, naked arm brushed his. Will inhaled deeply, filtering salt, pungent disinfectant underlaid by choppery blood, and Hannibal's unique and slightly woodsy scent out of the air. Apparently they had survived the fall and were on a boat. While he was musing about the why and how they hadn't found their end in the depth of the ocean, Will's thirst became worse. Eventually it forced him to open his eyes.

Daylight wafted through two portholes, illuminating cherry wood furnishings, a seamlessly integrated wash basin placed in the niche across the bed and cobalt blue bedding. Will's gaze flickered over his surroundings before it landed on his bedmate. Hannibal lay on his back, asleep. He looked strange without his usual impeccable attire, with uncontrolled facial expressions and his epicurean mouth so soft. Will had never been around a half naked Hannibal before. He remembered how he had held onto those strong arms and broad shoulders, but had never seen Hannibal's silver-haired chest or the trail of hair vanishing under a blanket that covered both their legs.

Different patched-up wounds could be seen on their bare chests. Will's was at his shoulder, Hannibal's dressings covered his right lower abdomen and dissolved at his back. In contrast to Will, his left hand held a cannula which was hooked to an infusion. Either the Dragon's bullet had nicked his guts or their fall into the ocean had made it worse Will thought apprehensively. He shuffled on the mattress and sat up as best as he could to grab Hannibal's wrist, searching for his pulse. Its beat was regular and steady, and Will sighed in relief. The motions had been enough to raise a searing pain in his wounds.

On the nightstand next to the bed stood a bottle of water and a small orange one full of pills. Will grabbed the latter and read its label. Vicodin. One of the good drugs you shouldn't take too long to stay this side of an opioid addiction. He didn't care about that for now as his face wound pulsated hot and swollen under the careful prodding of his tongue. With clumsy fingers it took him some time to undo the lids of both bottles. Will relaxed after he finally managed to swallow two pills down with water. It didn't matter that the water was warm, it tasted heavenly and he had a hard time to refrain from gulping it all down.

"Small sips would be best for your cheek wound and your empty stomach."

Will flinched and nearly spilled the rest of the liquid over his chest. He hadn't heard Chiyoh approaching. Another sign of him being really out of it. The painkillers wouldn't clear his mind either. Best getting it over with.

"I've spent all energy, even my reserves, on the Dragon. No need for more violence, Chiyoh."

"It still seems to be the only thing you understand, but your life is left in Hannibal's hands."

Picturing the hypnotic dance of fireflies in a run-down, beautiful, and dark courtyard where Chiyoh had last talked about such a debt, Will said, "I can live with that."

"Good." Chiyoh didn't indulge Will. She never had and probably wouldn't start anytime soon.

"How bad is Hannibal's state?"

"His abdominal wound became inflamed and made a switch to intravenous antibiotics necessary. After running a high fever for more than two days it finally broke last night. He is on the mend."

"Good." He couldn't have talked to Chiyoh longer than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Not only the pain had dulled significantly under the drug's effect, his awareness too. Will sipped the remaining water, put the bottle on the nightstand, and slouched down to a horizontal position. He sought Hannibal's warmth and familiar scent next to him before his eyes closed on their own accord and he sank back into sleep.

 

> Will stands in the lab next to the morgue coolers. He has forgotten what he wants, lost in thoughts, in time. Nobody is around when he comes to himself. He stares at his shoes, fiddling with the frame of his glasses. That's when he hears it. _Pling, pling, splash._ Drops of water are hitting the floor. Will's breath hitches and he veers around. Driblets leak from the seams of the cold chambers and form rivulets before his eyes. Cold sweat gathers on Will's brows, more trickles down his spine.
> 
> The water is pooling around him, soaking his shoes. Will searches the mortuary again and glances frenzied into the adjoining lab. He remains alone while his insides turn to ice. It creeps along his nerves, freezing every move. Will wants to scream but it's already too late, his mouth is paralyzed. His eyes spin frantically in their sockets before they roll back and he falls.

Will jolted. The combination of stabbing pain and circulating adrenalin are a foolproof method of waking him up. Heaving a breath he realized it had been a dream. The time his encephalitis-riddled brain had conjured water in the morgue Will hadn't been alone. Beverly had been alive back then, and together with Jack, Price and Zeller they had mused about Abel Gideon's motives behind the scrambled brains.

Will had forgiven Hannibal his manipulations at that time and others. If he was honest with himself, he was to blame in part for Beverly's death too. Losing her hurt to this day and was probably one of the reasons it had taken him so long to embrace his own darkness. He had been in a sinister place in the BSHCI when he had convinced her to look into the crimes he had been accused of. Guilt had lain heavily on his shoulders afterwards, dimmed to a background buzz by now, but never leaving him alone.

Will wasn't keen on reliving his hallucinations...but seeing Bev again would have had its perks. Apparently it wasn't meant to be, instead isolation and waterfright had had him terrified in this false memory and new nightmare. Funny that a fall from a bluff made him Aquaphobe, but hadn't instilled him with vertigo. Or maybe it had, and Will would only see as much the next time he stood on the edge of a precipice. He righted himself, bumping against Hannibal's leg in the process.

"Will?"

"Hannibal. How do you feel?"

"Like someone threw me off a cliff." Hannibal's voice was husky and remarkably humorous.

Different emotions flickered through Will's mind, the reckless wish to laugh and swat Hannibal's arm battled his flight reflex, and the wish to cover his beetroot blush was beaten by his ache to stay at Hannibal's side—come what may.

"I'm very sorry for having thrown us off the bluff. I think there's ample proof that you have the uncanny ability to coax out the worst and best in me. Chiyoh already told me to abide your judgement. I won't run."

"You don't have to, Will. I stand by what I said. Acknowledging your true self was all I ever wanted for you, for the both of us. You kept shreds of a decorous replica over your true self for years and it must have been exhausting. I'm glad the Dragon picked it apart even if the realisation hit you and, by implication, me harder than anticipated."

"You've planned ahead all the same."

"We can't suppress who we are. Being prepared for any imaginable possibility is ingrained in my nature."

"I'm glad you were. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. Now that I am by your side I can't wish for anything else." With that Will picked up Hannibal's hand, raised it carefully to his face, and pressed a soft kiss to Hannibal's knuckles.

"I…" Hannibal broke off.

Will smiled broadly even though the tugging at his wound hurt like a bitch. "Who would have thought that an innocent kiss was all it takes to shut up the great Hannibal Lecter?"

Evidently, Hannibal couldn't suppress his urge to smack Will and he slapped him on his chest with a flat hand. Will yelped halfheartedly before he burst out in painful laughter.

Only much later, after they had eaten Chiyoh's subpar attempt at a broth and talked in hushed tones about possible destinations when Will was only a hair's breadth away from sleep, did it occur to him that he had got off lightly. A flimsy thought, fading away behind closed eyes.

_"If in life we are surrounded by death, then in the health of our intellect we are surrounded by madness."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

 

> Will stands on the beach with Wells' grotesque totem pole of bodies in view. As strange and horrible the pile of corpses is Will admires its artful arrangement. He looks around. Nobody's with him on the Virginian shore. He's alone, the sand undisturbed, unlike the real crime scene or in his pendulum vision where he excavated the seven victims Wells had buried and stored around here to complete his design.
> 
> His gaze skims over the unusually broad beach and the faraway ocean and Will's eyes widen in surprise. A rogue wave is rushing in. Will knows he stands no chance and doesn't try to run. He inhales deeply before the wave crests and tons of water break down on him and the totem pole. The ice cold deluge rips Will off his feet and soaks his winter clothes, pulling heavily at his limbs. A skull covered with grotesque organic remains passes his face only inches away. Fibers floating in hollow eye sockets are the last thing Will sees before he's swallowed up by the churning sea.

A gentle hand shook Will awake.

"You are safe. It was only a bad dream." Hannibal's warm, sinewy fingers rubbed up and down Will's arm. The sleepy, accented voice and the tender touch soothed Will, coaxing his frantic heart back to its regular beat. "How do you feel?"

"Psychoanalyzing me again, Dr. Lecter?"

"No. I was merely asking about your medical condition as you have tossed and turned around. Not sure the sutures held. We should call for Chiyoh to inspect your wound again."

Will gathered Hannibal was too battered from his overcome infection to doctor him properly but was too proud to confess it. Hannibal's condition must have been worse than Will had thought. His own wounds were painful, yes, yet he had survived worse. "It's nothing."

"Forgive me, if I remain sceptical. You have not the best track record in taking care of yourself, Will." Being his upscale, glib self didn't prevent Hannibal from seeking comfort in Will's proximity as the strokes expanded from his arm to the whole side.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not particularly impressed with how you looked after me either. As far as I know it's not common for a psychiatrist to cut open their patient's-slash-friend's head in an attempt to create a brainy dish."

Privately Will thought that Hannibal was making amends right now, but he wouldn't point it out. It would be a shame to disrupt their friendly bickering or to destroy the mood. He nudged Hannibal's arm lightly with his elbow, heedful not to jostle his torso.

"It's as inordinate for said friend to throw his companion and himself off a steep coast. Don't you say?"

"Touché."

"I can see why this preposterous journalist has vilified you two as murder husbands," Chiyoh said from the doorway.

"We definitely tried to murder each other often enough. I'm glad neither of us succeeded though," Will said, suppressing the urge to giggle about the sheer madness of their conversation.

"It would have been rather inconvenient."

"And here I thought only your compassion for me was rather inconvenient."

Hannibal chuckled, but tensed a second later.

Will watched how the pain took over and changed his bearing. Hannibal's eyes became glazed, the breaths shallower and more rapid while a slight sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. It wasn't much to go by in the first place, but Will knew. He remembered the exact signs of discomfort from the cliff house when the Dragon's bullet had hit Hannibal.

It wasn't long until Hannibal had fought the ache off, holding onto their playfulness, "you _are_ a cunning boy."

"Could you two stop courting each other with sass and pain for a minute until I have redressed your wounds?"

Will caught the crinkles around Hannibal's eyes and...yeah, there it was...the slightly tilted lip. In the meantime Chiyoh had put a medical kit on Hannibal's nightstand. Will sprawled himself out on his back, ignoring the strain his broad grin caused while he waited for Chiyoh's nursing to turn from Hannibal to himself.

_"Ethics and aesthetics are one."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

The first week of their journey passed like that. Hannibal and Will stayed in bed, interrupted by short bathroom breaks, Chiyoh's tending, taking drugs and eating tasteless meals. Afterwards their health improved enough to leave the cabin for longer passages of time.

Sometimes Will thought he saw vague shadows of a person out of the corner of his eyes on board. Whenever he squinted and tried to get a closer look at them they vanished.

In his unwished-for self-experiment Will had learned that wounds of the mouth healed fast when carefully being tended to. After a week and one too many inspections of his cheek, that prodding at the scar from all sides, Hannibal removed the fine line of itchy stitches. The healed tissue was sore and stretched uncomfortably whenever he moved his face. When he complained, Hannibal told him uncompassionately to stop scolding as that used about ten more muscles than a laugh.

To Hannibal's horror Chiyoh didn't let him help in the galley at first. According to her, it would be too strenuous and interfere with his recovery. It was most entertaining to watch Hannibal keeping his distaste for their meals to himself for Chiyoh's sake. Will sometimes failed to stifle his laughter because Hannibal's fluttering nostrils were like blinking neon signs to him. Apparently Chiyoh had forgotten about his refined tastes or she simply didn't care. It was amusing to see that—even though she deeply cared for Hannibal—she didn't pamper him. Whenever Hannibal caught Will's delight his pouting took on epic proportions.

Dealing with his grouching became second nature to Will in no time. When nothing helped, neither classical music nor drawing, Will cornered Hannibal until they made eye contact and he could ask the silly man to stop sulking with an added please while batting his lashes.

The effect was astonishing, and Will asked himself how he could have missed Hannibal's susceptibility to his odd charms for so long. Seeing the usually stoic Hannibal with blown pupils, a mixture of tamed hunger and longing softness shining in his maroon eyes, did funny things to Will's insides. Only fair that it was a give-and-take.

Sometimes they got so caught up in each other's vicinity that only Chiyoh's loud sighs or harrumphs brought them back to themselves.

Will liked her better now, but wished with a disturbing passion for the day they could finally part ways so he could spend time with Hannibal without being interrupted by a third person. He was too reserved and Hannibal presumably too refined to take it further with Chiyoh close around.

All in all their life on the boat was more domestic than thrilling. As if they had always shared tight spaces, even a bedroom, with each other. They fit seamlessly. It was as if the separation of three years had never happened, and it didn't matter that they were on the run, still discussing their destination.

Hannibal wanted to go to Argentina while Will, for a change, yearned for a more tropical climate which resulted in him insisting on taking a break somewhere in the Caribbean. After more bickering and bantering—sometimes just for fun or Will's personal gusto of pissing Chiyoh off—they reached an agreement. Hannibal and Will would go to Cuba.

Chiyoh had steered south from the start. Now Will changed their course to southeast, towards Nassau, and Chiyoh and he took turns on the bridge. They were only three to four days away from the archipelago. The tax haven was highly frequented by tourists. A place where nobody would ask questions about people transferring and withdrawing money for whatever reasons or checking out the Cuban real estate market.

Their future abode caused further arguments. Will wasn't keen on living in an exuberant villa or a Colonial style mansion. Hannibal's recalcitrance came to an end when Will told him how his proclivity for expensive wine, truffles, and exquisite table cloths had given him away in Florence in the first place. Hannibal had looked at Will's smug face and admonished, "we won't live in a beach hut."

Will rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we will be able to find a domicile that's neither a shack nor a Florentine villa and suits both of us."

If Will hoaxed Hannibal by telling Chiyoh all about the different cabins and huts he had lived in during his childhood, only Hannibal's narrowed eyes revealed that he could see through Will's ruse. Later in bed they lay next to each other, Hannibal with his back turned on Will because he was still slightly miffed after Will's teasing. Silently pleading for atonement, Will massaged Hannibal's nape and scalp until all tension bled away under his nails. Hannibal fell asleep during his ministrations, and Will was downright happy. The fact that they would never stop playing games, yet trusted the other with their life was comforting. Not for the world Will would want it any other way.

 

> From a bird's-eyes view Will looks down at his own body, sleeping on the old bed in Wolf Trap. Eerie light illuminates his form, tee, boxers, and naked limbs. Otherwise it's stark dark, no light seeping through the curtains, the area around the bed bleak and full of murky shadows. Will can't see if those black shapes are his dogs or not. The room holds an odd vastness as if it will turn against him to swallow him whole.
> 
> That's when the body of the other Will begins to melt. It starts at the sides, skin and flesh dissolving quickly. Muscles and bones follow. They turn translucent and spill from the mattress onto the shady floor. The loss of bulk reaches a critical point and with a splash the rest of his body vanishes.
> 
> Will stays conscious. He has counted up to three when his perspective changes. Now he is lying on the bed. Will knows he has only a fraction of a second before it'll happen again. With darting eyes he scans the darkness around him. No dogs, no other souls, not even his own mind is keeping him company from above. He's all alone when his body liquefies.

Rays of sunlight were steaming through the small portholes when he woke up. That was one scary dream, Will thought, pulling a sweat-soaked sheet from his skin. Thinking about it, his dreams were more disturbing than they had been in a long time, and Will had no clue why. So much water, one way or another swallowing him whole. In direct contradiction to his waking self. Will shook his head—to get rid of an uneasiness he couldn't explain—and pricked up his ears.

He heard Hannibal puttering about in the boat's kitchen, talking to Chiyoh in hushed voices while the smell of freshly baked pancakes reached his nose. Will's stomach grumbled. He climbed out of bed and entered the bathroom. The shower water pelted down on his skin, bringing the recent dream to the forefront of his mind again. Will had to take deep, calming breaths not to turn the shower off after a few seconds and carry on with lathering himself. Watching the suds draining down the gutter helped. Will joined Hannibal and Chiyoh ten minutes later on deck.

Like many yachts this one had a swept hardtop, skylights and a cosy sitting area which made for great surroundings during meals. While eating breakfast Chiyoh told Will she had helped her uncle fishing during spring and summer holidays in Japan as a child. They had never lost track of the shore though and she confessed reluctantly the open sea made her uncomfortable, boating license notwithstanding. Will preferred sailing boats, but he admitted it was easier to navigate a motor-controlled one and that not everyone found it relaxing to cross oceans all by themselves.

"When did you cross an ocean with a sailing boat?" Hannibal raised a brow in curiosity.

"When I followed you to Italy. I sailed from Baltimore to Livorno. It's faster than you think. Took me only about four weeks."

"You crossed the Atlantic and the Mediterranean in winter and headed through the whole of Europe to Lithuania for Hannibal?" Chiyoh asked, her normally impassive mouth turning to an 'oh'.

"Err, yes. You knew about it. We met in Lithuania and I told you about my trip. Sailing's no big deal. You know your way with boats when you grow up at the shore of Louisiana. Comes right after fishing. It's possible to fly fish from boats. Did you know? Not as calming as in a river, but still fun."

Will stopped in his tracks, trying to comprehend why Hannibal and Chiyoh had ceased eating and looked at him like this. Hannibal in pleased wonder with luminous eyes and a warm, crooked smile. Chiyoh as if she just had an epiphany.

"And I thought you were the only one who got it bad when you gave yourself up to the FBI for him." Chiyoh looked at Hannibal, then at Will, and back again. She shrugged and said, "you might be perfectly matched after all."

Hannibal didn't say anything. Instead, he skidded closer until his left side was pressed to Will's right. Their legs and arms touched, and the tender smile gracing his expression stayed like that for the rest of their joint meal.

_"I act with complete certainty. But this certainty is my own."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

It was fortunate that they reached Nassau in the late afternoon. At a time where the bulks of cruise tourists were gone, leaving behind empty cruiser quays and closed shops. Nassau downtown was devoid of humans, an occasional scraggy dog and stray cat rummaging through the garbage in the side streets around the straw market, one of the island's tourist attractions. Will was grateful to get a reprieve before he had to deal with masses around them.

Chiyoh had booked them a villa online which was about one and a half miles away from their wharf. When Will raised an eyebrow at the term 'villa' she refused to back down.

"Don't fret. Most rentable houses that give us enough privacy cost a lot more than the one I've picked. A three bedroom house at Cable Beach is tame in comparison to the high-maintenance villas in Paradise Island. Besides it's agreeably close to the marina."

It was about 73 degrees, not overly humid, and while they were walking towards their accommodation Will rolled up his sleeves to feel the evening sun warming his skin. He was happy to stretch his legs, after having spent too many days and nights of healing in a confined space, and strode out. His gait became more sedated as soon as Will realized that Hannibal's wound still held him back.

"Oh, I didn't mean to run ahead," Will said, once he dropped back to Hannibal's side.

"It is a pleasure to see the spring in your step. Please don't suppress it for my sake."

Will found it deeply unsettling that Hannibal was considerate and courteous of him at all times now. Not that he had seen the man ever to be thoughtless or crude—that would probably go against his aristocratic nature and nurture—yet it made him aware what an uncouth klutz he was. He knew by now that Hannibal delighted in eating the rude and couldn't fathom what distinguished his own brand of coarseness from everyone else's—at least in Hannibal's eyes. It was inscrutable to Will what made him special, but he didn't dare to ask. It might disturb their peaceful coexistence, or worse, their newfound closeness.

Sometimes Will marveled at his own ignorance. That it had taken so long to see Hannibal's devotion for him. Will had even asked Bedelia of all people. Truly a horrible faux pas if there ever was one. As far as he could see Hannibal's love for him burned like molten lava, showering him in a steady current of nourishment, attention, and lingering touches.

At first Will could blame the encephalitis for his density, later on hurt and anger upon Hannibal's betrayal and Abigail's presumed death had overruled their blossoming friendship. His own countless wrongdoings to help put Jack's plan into action and to rectify Bev's death… It was a useless enterprise to cancel out their evil deeds. Now Will had witnessed how well their darkness matched, how beautifully they had killed the Dragon together. Hannibal's love had shrouded him and his tentative love for Hannibal had been awash in the gaping abyss of his mind, deeper and steeper than any chasm he could ever fall from—a hand stroking gingerly over Will's bare arm pulled him out of his rumination.

"Will? We are here."

Will's eyes focused on his surroundings, where Chiyoh disappeared in an iron-cast entryway of a pastel yellow painted house. White window frames and green shutters gleamed in the evening light. A small flagged yard lined with palm trees and banana plants served as a parking lot to their left. It looked nice and not too offbeat.

The house had three bedrooms and a swimming pool just a stairway away from the beach, the latter ridiculously unnecessary in Will's opinion, but he realized why Chiyoh had rented the house after he saw the kitchen. It had an half-open front towards the living room, bar stools lining the big hatch, huge glass windows towards the ocean, a kitchen island, sink included, in the middle of the room. The other side held the fancy appliances: an induction stove, a baking oven and a—in all likelihood frowned upon—microwave. The stove alone was, if Will was asked, bigger than the one in Hannibal's house in Baltimore. It was probably Hannibal's wet dream come true and Chiyoh's way to say, _fuck, I'm glad you are alive_ , even though the woman would never taint her conscience with actual swearing.

Later, after a light dinner put together in two shakes by Hannibal, Will stood on the villa's terrace above the beach. The house's furnishing was light-toned, modern, and non-descript, and Will saw it as the disguise it was. If Jack looked for him, he might look in remote corners and rustic cabins. His search for Hannibal would probably have him roam for baroque or classical architecture. Not a house like this where well-off retirees would spend a vacation or that dreary rich couples would choose for their honeymoon.

Will watched the night fall on the horizon, a short burst of reds and purples in the western distance and dark blue gathering from the east. For the first time Will's thoughts drifted towards Molly and Walter, and he asked himself how they fared right now. Jack would try to grill her about his whereabouts when his and Hannibal's bodies didn't show up at that coast. Will grinned sardonically because Molly would give Jack hell.

Truth be told, Will didn't miss her. He missed the normalcy she had encompassed. It was too late though. For her, and more so for him, who had never been normal in an all-american or any other way. Will had felt the change between them coming the moment Molly had insisted on Jack's behalf, had even tried to warn her. Will didn't know if she hadn't taken him seriously or just couldn't fathom the threads that interlaced his life with Hannibal's and vice versa. It had become worse after the Dragon went after her. Will remembered their conversation during his vigil at her bedside in the hospital and how every word had alienated him from her.

Poor Molly, another husband lost. Will hoped third time would be a charm for her and that that man would slot easier into a father's role for Walt as well. He had done his best during their shared time. In hindsight it had been only a matter of time until his past caught up with him.

His left ring finger was still embellished by their wedding band. It would have been fitting if it had gone lost during his and Hannibal's tumble into the sea. In an impromptu decision Will scampered downstairs on the beach and came to a stop a safe few feet away from the water's edge. He tugged the ring from his finger and threw it in a high arc into the water. It sank without a splash and all in all it was anticlimactically apt.

_"Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

 

> Will is drowning. Translucent water turns red around him. With every inch that he sinks further the red gets stronger, bloodier. His body dwindles in prone position—arms crooked, eyes open. At first a cone-shaped halo illuminates him, radiating a fleeting sense of safety.
> 
> Once the light around him vanishes, compressed by thickening liquid, Will panics. The blood coagulates to an impervious scarlet molasse, percolating his nostrils, ears and mouth with clots. Will tries to get rid of a chopper clod staining his tongue but it's a futile attempt. His heart beats faster the thicker the mass becomes until he isn't drowning anymore but swallowed up by a swamp. The more he struggles the darker it turns—from scarlet to purple to eggplant. Finally, Will's sinking stops, but he can't see his hand in front of his face. He is stuck in gelatinous blackness and wishes to scream with a vengeance.

Will startled awake, Hannibal's limbs weighing him down. Taking deep breaths helped his tense muscles to untwist slowly. He wasn't versed at oneiromancy, yet he could imagine how a psychiatrist would have a field day dissecting the horror scenarios his subconscious came up with. In all likelihood Hannibal would love to support him, but Will didn't want to be psychoanalyzed—not by Hannibal or anybody else for the matter. The questions had been bad enough during their semi-official psychiatrist-patient relations. Will buried any lingering discomfort about his nightmare as he wasn't keen to let his anxieties come between them. Not now that they stood together on the edge of another precipice—one, Will was eager to tumble from, preferably in a bed, just as they were now.

Last night Hannibal had picked Will up from his musings on the beach. Even though the house had three bedrooms Hannibal had invited Will to share the master bedroom with him, mumbling an easy to see through excuse about the calming effect Will's company had on him. So Will had joined him under the covers of a king size canopy bed draped in white linen, thankful to be able to curl up next to Hannibal's by now familiar figure. He didn't even want to think about the dimensions his night terrors would have taken if Hannibal's calming presence eluded him.

If someone had told him that he would love to wake up in a tangle of limbs with a cannibalistic serial killer, Will would have deemed that person more insane than the crazy murderers he had met through his work at Quantico. Yet, he loved to wake up next to Hannibal, whose slow breaths puffed against the crook of his neck right now. The man's body held a warmth that fascinated Will as much as the loose grace he had, even when asleep. Most times Hannibal woke first, so Will made the most of this opportunity and looked his fill.

Head propped up on one elbow, Will thought about how sad it was that Hannibal as the artist between them couldn't capture himself spread out like this on paper. In all honesty, Will wasn't sure how to classify even Hannibal's hair color: it was not gold or silver, neither blond, light brown, or grey. It combined all those colors and keeping his fingers from straying through its tousled strands got harder and harder by the minute. And that was just the hair. The man had equally mesmerizing eyes, shining in a potpourri of amber, red, and brown. Thankfully, they were closed at the moment so their piercing gaze couldn't distract him. Fair lashes and eyebrows lent him a beguiling fragile appearance, a trait only sparsely visible when Hannibal was awake.

Hannibal's mouth was in Will's direct line of sight. The yearning to touch those lips smoldered in his guts. How it was possible for Hannibal to have full and thin lips at the same time, depending on the expression the mouth bore, was equally mysterious to Will as was the angle of his cheekbones—sharp as glass, but also rosy and fresh as a maiden's. A beauty defying all logic.

It might be shallow, paying so much attention to someone's bodily attributes, but Will had realized only recently that he was physically attracted to Hannibal when he had been captivated by the man's mind for years. That he was zealous to explore the full package was an understatement.

Next to Will's neck Hannibal's breathing rhythm picked up and he stirred.

"Good morning."

"Waking up this close to you makes it a pleasurable morning indeed," Hannibal said, voice husky with sleep, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at Will.

"Here I was, thinking romance had been declared dead." Will chuckled. "It might come as a surprise, but I'm more of a hands-on guy."

After years of waiting Will leant over and pressed his mouth on Hannibal's. As first kisses went it wasn't picture perfect. Will had to bend his head at an odd angle to meet Hannibal's lips and their noses bumped against each other on the way. Will shuffled slightly back and to the side to try again.

Hannibal's lips were soft and a bit tentative after that first failed kiss. Will was having none of it, and after licking at the seams Hannibal's lips opened to his prodding tongue and... _ah that's better_...Will's desire flared up to a blaze, roaring through his body.

Not letting go of Hannibal's mouth, Will grabbed him by the hips and rolled them over. He came out on top of Hannibal. With feverish hands he stroked Hannibal's flanks and wandered over shoulders, collarbones, and further until Will reached hair. He buried his fingers in its softness, counterpointed by Hannibal's coarse chest hair. Its tickling hardened Will's nipples, which was followed suit by his erection.

Hannibal's matching hardness came to rest in the crease of Will's thigh and both their pants were quite a hindrance to aligning them. Will growled into Hannibal's mouth, half from frustration and half from arousal. This—and a dangerous lack of oxygen—encouraged Will to stop kissing.

Both their chests were heaving, and as soon as Will got enough breath to speak he croaked, "pants off!" Catching sight of Hannibal's narrowing eyes, he hastily added "please."

Hannibal tried to comply, but was slowed down in his movements by his sore belly wound. Will, having discharged his own pants in no time, pulled at the hem and helped to push Hannibal's down without putting any further strain on the other's body.

 _What a sight._ Will's eyes glazed roaming over all the parts of Hannibal he hadn't seen until this moment: long legs ending in small hips which blended into the familiar sight of Hannibal's slight tummy, chest, and shoulders. Without fail his eyes were drawn back to Hannibal's cock. It was fully erect and looked good enough to eat.

Hannibal caught his lingering gaze, smirked and gestured like he normally did when serving a new course at his dinner table. "Be my guest." He spread his thighs.

From the drag at his cheek Will knew his smile became feral while he accepted the invitation. He knelt between Hannibal's legs with hands roaming upwards over hairy skin and firm muscles towards Hannibal's groin.

Will had done this before, more or less fumbling through a few blow jobs during college. An easy way to satisfy his bi curiosity for someone who didn't seek out eye contact if he could help it.

This was the first time he wanted to make it mind blowingly good for his partner though. Will didn't bluntly take Hannibal's cock into his hands or mouth. While lying down and making himself comfortable in his position he started nuzzling Hannibal's cock with his nose. The musky scent got straight to Will's own dick which—although trapped under him—twitched against Egyptian cotton sheets. Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from soft balls over the underside of Hannibal's shaft to its head, Will moaned. Hannibal's skin tasted of salt, soap and that hint of oakmoss that was uniquely his.

Carefully Will nipped at the head, licking translucent beads of precome from its tip. Hannibal, who could talk the living daylights out of everyone, was silent, save for the small sighs that escaped him. His body told Will another story. It trembled under him, muscles rigid, hands tangled in creased cotton folds.

Will's eyes searched for Hannibal's, letting go of his cock for a moment. "Relax," he said quietly, licking his lips and relishing at any lingering bitterness. "Don't you dare hold back. I want to see _you_."

Hannibal's erection twitched in the corner of Will's eye while he emphasized and Will decided not only to continue his ministrations but ante up his game. Going down on someone wasn't as easy as it seemed in tacky porn, but Will was adventurous enough to try. Adding determination to the mix, he took a deep breath and dove right in. Will made sure his mouth and throat were in a line before he took another inch of that handful of cock in his mouth, pressing his tongue against its bottom side. It was hard, warm, and musky. Will got lost in bobbing his head up and down, while he tried to figure out how to further relax his throat. His arms were resting against strong thighs, fingers cradling Hannibal's sack and pubic hair incidentally.

Hannibal had given up his reticence and groaned whenever Will sucked his cock with vigor. Panted breaths puffed in the background while Will's own slurping rang loud and indecent in his ears. Long fingers buried themselves in Will's curls, as if in guidance. Instead the grip held him back whenever Will moved and had a crack at deepthroating Hannibal. He accepted the silent, but persistent request not to. Alternatively he swirled his tongue and hummed as much as possible while doing so.

The intensity of bitterness and salt on Will's tongue rose which only fueled his wish to see Hannibal come. His humming turned to pleading moans and he seeked friction for his own cock by humping the mattress.

"Will…"

In his eagerness to spur Hannibal on his teeth grazed the tender flesh in his mouth and—of course—adding pain to pleasure pushed Hannibal over the edge.

Spurts of come filled Will's mouth and Hannibal's body shuddered with every pulse under him, while Will swallowed it down as best as he could. The husky groans that escaped Hannibal were its own brand of aphrodisiac. Feeling and hearing Hannibal stripped of his barriers was enough for Will to reach his own climax. He came without even having touched himself.

Like a puppy Will licked at Hannibal's shrivelling cock until he had consumed every drop it was willing to spend. Hannibal didn't stop him. Eventually, Will let go and slid up Hannibal's body. Brown eyes crinkled and Will grinned proudly, but something nagged at him.

"Why did you stop me?"

"As eager as I'm for you to devour me, body and soul, I thought coalescing any further might be too transcendental for our first time."

Will shook his head in silent laughter at the diction.

"Agreed. Getting to taste you after all this time was pretty overwhelming for me too."

Their lips met again, languish and slow. Contentment welled up in Will, deep and warm, when Hannibal slung his arms around him.

Hopefully, they had all the time in the world to explore each other as long and thorough as needed. Will's appetite had barely been whetted.

 

> Patches of snow cover the withered meadow Will finds himself in. He wears winter boots, his high-necked dark-green coat, scarf, gloves, and navy blue beanie. It's close to freezing and his breath puffs in little clouds out of his mouth.
> 
> Out of the blue, a shudder trickles down Will's spine and after gazing around coming up with nothing he slowly turns around. He stands in close vicinity to a wall of snow. It's imposing like an iceberg, sublime with a height of about thirty feet, and perpendicular to the ground Will is standing on.
> 
> Now that Will has seen the wall of ice he can't block it out anymore. He hears it, hears the ice working. Tons are shifting, creaking and cracking next to him. Will can also feel the ice. It's emanating a cold that is malevolent in its iciness. Wide-eyed Will stares up its length, focusing on the top of the wall. The cracking gets louder and Will knows what's about to happen before it happens. An avalanche breaks loose from the edge and Will can only gape at it open-mouthed when it tumbles down on him. At least it won't take long until he's buried is his last conscious thought when snow and ice hit him like a ton of bricks.

_"Hell isn't other people. Hell is yourself."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

It took Hannibal and Will some time to pick a house for them in Cuba. One problem was that most offers were located in Havana, and even though a big city would lend them some anonymity Will didn't want to live surrounded by millions of souls. He and his empathy would go nuts in no time. Fortunately, Hannibal saw Will's point. What shrank the proposals further was the fact that they couldn't go for the available old Colonial mansion style without putting Jack on their track.

The real estate manager, a competent and friendly Afro-Caribbean women in her mid thirties ignored Hannibal's pout when Will told him so, using other words than _FBI_ , _most wanted_ , and _murder charges_ for the third time in an hour. In fairness she also connived at Will's eye-rolls that had increased with every new round of whispered arguments.

"Yes, I'm aware you've wanted something more showy, but this one is actually perfect for us. Big enough, out of the city, and on the edge of a touristy area so we don't stick out any more than other gringos will."

"Under one condition. Once we are familiar with the Island we will look into other options. This house looks like an architect has gone mad over a collection of stones and shingles."

Chuckling, Will could admit that Hannibal had a point and the building's style in all likelihood hurt Hannibal's esthetics.

"I see where you are coming from, yet you need to remember that the Communist Party of Cuba has probably prohibited the import of luxury goods. I'm sure you won't find any Baroque or Louis-quatorze furniture there that wasn't brought by the Spanish conquerors, and Tartufo bianco e negro might be restricted to Raúl Castro himself."

The gaze Hannibal threw him could put a lemon to shame, but before he started to laugh in earnest Will remembered that Hannibal had grown up in communistic Lithuania which had cost him all of his closest family. Will didn't need to have heard the gory details to know it had been horrible. To this day his violent and traumatic youth was in part responsible for Hannibal's cannibalistic ways. Will frowned and chewed on his lower lip while he caught Hannibal's hand consolingly.

"Please be honest, are you up to setting up camp in a communistic country? We can change our plans and sail for Jamaica or one of the Lesser Antilles. You would feel more at home on a French speaking island anyway, wouldn't you?"

For a second Will could see a small smile gracing Hannibal's features and just about resigned himself to brush up his long forgotten French instead of his moderate Spanish when Hannibal shook his head.

"No. I think Cuba is perfect for us." Hannibal didn't add _to lie low for a while_ in front of their audience but Will heard it nonetheless. "Cuba has nearly four times the inhabitants as the whole Lesser Antilles together." Which translated as _we can't risk sticking out like a sore thumb_. That Cuba had a no extradition treaty with their home country had played a huge part in choosing that particular island too.

"Yeah, you are probably right. We agree then?"

Hannibal gave Will an affirmative nod and with his trademark winsome smile, looking tremendously innocent, he addressed Ms. Solanche, "we shall take the house you've showed us."

" _La Casita_ it was called?" Will asked, barely suppressing his snickers about a house named house.

"The former owner probably thought the name to be witty," Hannibal added acerbically.

"Wait, do you speak Spanish too?"

"No, but it's not rocket science to get the meaning when you speak Italian."

"Guess so. You will probably be fluent in Spanish in no time and haggle hard with the Cuban shopkeepers."

"And you will in equal measure befriend the local fishermen and every stray dog in a perimeter of ten miles."

While they bickered, Ms. Solanche had endorsed all the necessary documents and was now garnering Hannibal's signatures.

Will was happy Hannibal bought the house at a reasonable price. It wasn't exactly a bargain, but Will knew it could have been way worse. Worse as the fifteen-rooms-with-five-bathrooms villa in an uptown quarter of Havana that looked like someone had transferred a miniature version of a Spanish castle into the middle of the city. Will shuddered just thinking he had to live in such a mausoleum.

Yes, the house Hannibal was acquiring for them wasn't the prettiest, but it had potential. Will was sure he could refurbish it with little means. He smiled. Hannibal's knuckles grazed tenderly over his good cheek and jawline.

"It gives me great pleasure to see you this light-hearted and…" Hannibal's voice faded, searching for the right term.

"Happy. Taking our situation into account it might be strange, but that's what I am. I'm content being with you, and eager to start our life—just the two of us."

Hannibal looked very pleased. It wasn't visible for others, but Will saw the crinkling of his eyes and a soft smile garnering on Hannibal's mouth Will had named _The Uffizi Smile_ for himself.

"Well then. The documents will be sent by express mail and we will pick them up with the house's keys in Havana in a few days."

"Let's set sail to Cuba then."

 

> Will dreams about dreaming. At least that is what he thinks is happening. It takes him some time to capture his form as it is not corporeal at the moment.
> 
> He's everywhere and nowhere. Will feels, but can't see or hear or taste a thing. He is splitting in twos, fours, eights… he splits indefinitely. His body, no, his shape, his _whatever this is_ , thrums and patters. He drips. Flows. Streams. Floods.
> 
> Water. Ridiculously enough Will _is_ the water. H 2O. Hydrogen oxide: two atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen. Billions of them, covalently bonded. All flowing meaninglessly around. Horrendous. He's going to lose himself. Maybe there's a way that all the oxygen and hydrogen molecules will come back together, but that's not enough. The human body contains more than water. There are carbon, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus, Will also remembers potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium as essentials. And that is just his body. What about his mind?
> 
> Water isn't conscious. Strangely enough Will still is, but that is of no solace right now. He knows he is dreaming and yet Will panics. He's overwhelmed by a monstrous horror. Dread fills drops, rivulets, and puddles. Chill would cripple bones, if he had any. Blood would thicken in his veins, if he had a heart to pump liquids anywhere. He would scream if there were a mouth that could be used. Instead, he's spilling. Nothing but water everywhere. Water that is churning in agitation. That's trying to drown itself.

_"A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that's unlocked and opens inwards; as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

Will knew something wasn't right. It had nagged at his consciousness for a while now. Yet he loathed to think about it, to acknowledge it—as both would make it real. He was aware that he couldn't bury it forever though.

All those forms of water. Liquid phase. Amalgamated crystals. Clotted with hemoglobin. More and more water. His next dream would probably see him boiled and vaporized.

Eyes firmly shut, blocking out anything mundane Will was lying in bed. Hannibal's body was a reassuring weight next to him. His silent presence offered much needed serenity as waking up evoked dread in Will. He didn't know why.

Will recalled the past weeks. After Hannibal had acquired the Cuban house in Nassau they had told Chiyoh about it who in turn had insisted on leaving them right there and then. Apparently it was much easier to reach Japan from the Bahamas via the US than from Cuba where she would have had to take a detour via China.

They had said their goodbyes at Lynden Pindling Airport. Hannibal had been sad and Will silently relieved at seeing her go. Chiyoh had acknowledged Will by hugging him and voicing a threat in passing insomuch as she would hunt him down if he didn't treat Hannibal right. Under all the calm Japanese demeanor she really was a wild thing and Will missed her fierce presence now more than he had anticipated.

Hannibal had conjured new passports for them when they had left the center of the Bahamian islands behind and sailed south. Whenever they had entered a lull Hannibal had gone for a swim. Will had watched him gaining strength again and admired seeing Hannibal's body in action, but had stayed out of the water.

They were now the married British-Danish couple Dr. William and Professor Hannes Jansson. Will hadn't known if he should be appalled by Hannibal's forgery of titles or of him making Freddie Lounds' headline about murder husbands a given. As punishment Will currently called him Hanners and spoke with the uttermost finicky British accent he could manage. It was of advantage Will had an eidetic memory and wasn't tone-deaf either, otherwise he would have had a hard time after having grown up in the swamps of Louisiana.

At his first performance of said speech pattern Hannibal had muttered under his breath about his cunning boy while Will had smiled and known he hadn't taken it the wrong way.

Plainly put, Hannibal enjoyed Will's brazenness. What would be an unforgivable rudeness by others and a straight way into Hannibal's rolodex was only smiled upon beatifically when done by Will.

Of course he kept going. It was fun to hear Hannibal sigh softly when Will forgot all about being prim and proper, and swore about arses and buggers and felt sassy, no, cheeky as fuck. Staying in character still needed getting used to.

Jokes apart, something wasn't right. His dreams were horrifying and unsettling—even for former Will Graham who was used to having the shittiest dreams ever.

Then there was their life. It was a great life. As it was it was exuberantly perfect. Thinking about its story-book quality awoke an unease in Will's guts. The house alone did. It didn't have a white picket fence and obviously there weren't two-point-half children, but a stone wall with white, little pillars, an ocean view, and his wish to get them some more dogs made it a damn near thing.

Will refused to think about it anymore and opened his eyes.

_"The world is everything that is the case."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

"Don't you think our life here in Cuba is overbearing in its state of perfectness?" Will asked, while swaying slowly in their hammock.

A tropical summer rain had splattered down just an hour ago and the air was still humid, the upcoming afternoon breeze notwithstanding. Hannibal, who had been sitting in a cane-bottomed chair reading a book in the shadows of their terrasse, caught Will's eyes.

"Did you have a nightmare during your nap?"

Will nodded, gnawing worriedly at his bottom lip while his eyes scurried around.

"I fear all this is unreal."

He waved at their surroundings, the house and the beach that was only about a hundred feet away. Thought of their shiny and perfect kitchen and the well stocked freezer down in the basement. Of the mugger that padded it after he had chosen a cannibalistic killer and his significant other of all people to rob last week. Gazed fondly at Lėlė, the little older black mongrel Will had picked up after tourists had left her behind at their port before she could join Cuba's strays, who was curled up in the crook of Hannibal's soles, when his eyes finally came to rest on Hannibal again.

"Our life together."

"While I admit that we have arranged ourselves seamlessly into an ethereal relationship I can't understand why it disturbs you that greatly."

Any other times Will would have laughed at Hannibal's elocution, but not today. Today he was ready to voice his concerns.

"It's the dreams."

"What dreams, mano meilė?"

"Whenever I dream, I'm losing myself in water, one way or another. Always alone. No sight of you. No living souls for company. No one to keep me safe or sane."

Will glanced away from Hannibal, reluctant to admit the depth of his fear, taking all his dreams into account.

"I was unwilling to tell you, but it's been going on for a while now. To be precise it has started right after I've gained consciousness from the fall. What..." Will shuddered so profoundly, the hammock started to swing faster.

"What if I have never even woken up?" Will felt his eyes well up and then tears were spilling down his cheeks. "What if you are dead? Maybe I am too? Or in a coma? Whatever it is, Hannibal, I can't…"

Will's voice broke while he tried unsuccessfully to stifle the sobs that were wrecking him. Until warm and tender hands reached for him, stopping the hammock and pulling him out of it.

"Come, mylimasis, let's go inside."

Hannibal led Will to the house through the floor where cold stone met their bare feet, towards the polished wooden staircase, and up to the first floor into their vast bedroom. Reaching the familiar room with its light blue walls, huge windows, and dark wooden four poster bed was balm for Will's frayed nerves.

They sank together on the bed, shuffling and slipping over the covers until their legs were tangled comfortingly and they were lying chest to chest able to gaze into each other's eyes. Will sighed, not as agitated as he had been just minutes before.

"Do you think my memory palace is able to create whole worlds containing you and me in places I've never been before?"

"With your empathy and eidetic memory? Yes, my darling boy, I'm sure you are able to create whole universes and realities—worlds with and worlds without me."

Hannibal's eyes dimmed after his last words and Will pressed their lips together. To comfort the both of them. Their tongues met in a game as old as mankind, but before Will could lose himself in it he broke away.

Even though the kiss was everything he wished for, Will still wanted to scream in despair. He had know for the longest time that something wasn't right, no matter how perfect his allegedly waking hours were. Had chosen to ignore the unease. Not any more. Will knew what he had to do. Yet a part of his soul would hate himself forever if he did so.

A single tear dropped out of his right eye where it glided down and got caught at his scar. Hannibal licked it up with his tongue and Will melted while his gaze locked with maroon eyes.

"I… I don't want to leave you and our life here. What if you have died and left me behind?"

"Will, if our life as it subsists is a figment of your imagination, you will grow bored with it sooner or later. I'm sure you will want to know what happened to you, me, us. You are too much of a warrior to live forever withdrawn in your mind. It's written in your name and even more so in your unrelenting self."

Will sighed and pulled himself together and reached for Hannibal who rolled closer and pulled Will into a bone-melting kiss. This time Will lost himself in the slide of lips and tongues and the nipping of sharp teeth. Thinking of what they had done and would continue to do, made him groan.

Hannibal's mouth ran over his jawline and came to nuzzle at his pulse point. He followed the line of Will's throat to the hollow above his collarbones, marking him with hickeys along the way.

Hannibal stopped to help Will pull off his clothes and got himself naked—all done within minutes. Then he continued his ministrations by adding his hands to worship Will's body. Warm and firm they smoothed over his chest and flanks while Hannibal's mouth licked over his nipple. It was a slow caress and Will shuddered. Heat spread like a wildfire along his nerves, up and down his spine, encompassing Will's groin as much as his heart. The sensations were nearly too much and Will whimpered under their force.

Hannibal attended to the other nub before he let off to go after the scar on Will's belly. It had been years and yet Will's breath hitched. The tissue was still sensitive to touch and it had never been the focus of someone's attention. Of course Hannibal would go down that road by nosing and kissing along its length. Will writhed under the touch not sure if he wanted more or less of it.

Will tried to grab Hannibal by his shoulders, but the other would have none of it and caught Will's hands with his.

"Hush, Will. I've wanted to worship you for the longest time. Please humor me."

Will gave up and let Hannibal have his way with him who in turn let go of Will's hands. He had thought about it, about going down that road of gay sex and penetration these past weeks, and had known that Hannibal would be a considerate lover. Nothing could have prepared him for the onslaught of feelings it would ignite in him though.

The passion was only part of it even if it became less and less easy to ignore his bodily demands. Being intimate with Hannibal was like coming home. It was as if Plato's idea about two bodies sharing one soul and them being separated by Zeus was true and he had finally found the other part of himself. Will hid his face behind an arm slung over his face and groaned. Both, from Hannibal following Will's trail of hair down south to its base and from his ridiculously mawkish thoughts.

When Hannibal mouthed at Will's cock all thoughts about Greek mythology left him. He sucked and licked at Will's length as if he wanted to commit every square inch to memory. Will was trying to keep the little _ah's_ , _oh's_ and _Hannibal's_ that escaped him at a normal volume when the sound of an opened clasp reached his ears. He waited for fingers and cold lube breaching him. When long seconds later nothing had happened in and around his ass, but Hannibal had shifted and the mattress dipped rhythmically Will let go of his arm and opened his eyes.

The sight was spectacular. Hannibal was kneeling, mouth still working on Will's length while his ass was raised up into the air and he was fingering himself open for Will. Sadly, Will couldn't see the dexterous fingers in action, but he saw the light sheen of perspiration covering Hannibal's arched back and the beginning of Hannibal's perk ass at the peak. Will's brow furrowed when his eyes roamed over the brand but got distracted by the squelching sounds Hannibal was making.

It was obscene and a great turn on. _As if there was a need for more of that._ Will was ready to combust any time soon, but didn't want to.

"H…Hannibal, please, it's too much…"

Hannibal's mouth let go of his cock and Will sighed in relief when the heat that had accumulated in his balls and belly died down a notch.

The reprieve was only short lived because Hannibal leapt onto Will, his ass and slick crease rubbing deliciously over Will's groin. He made himself comfortable before he rose up in the air with his ass, reached for Will's cock and lowered himself slowly down on Will's length.

  


  


The heat of Hannibal's body was incredible, bearing its own kind of addiction. Will let go of any inhibitions of too loud and too much. It was heaven. Will met Hannibal's increasing rhythm with every rise and fall and pushed into him with as much force as he was able to from underneath Hannibal. Together they found the angle that worked best for Hannibal who was sweaty, flushed, ruffled—and the most beautiful Will had ever seen him.

Hannibal's cock bobbed with every slide, pre-come dribbling down its length. It was as flushed as Hannibal's cheeks and Will grabbed it, stroking him in sync with their movements. Pants and moans filled the air and Will had long lost track whose were whose.

Pleasure took over, coiling through him in a white hot blur. Mercilessly its peak came closer and together they fell down another precipice.

Later, when their breathing had gone back to normal and they had wiggled away from the mess on the sheets, they lay together in a tangle of limbs. Worn out as he was Will buried his head in the crook of Hannibal's neck, his voice barely a whisper. "Will you still love me when I wake up?"

"Do you even have to ask, mylimasis?"

"No, not really."

"That's what I thought."

Hannibal pressed a tender kiss against Will's hairline. The last thing Will heard before he sank into unconsciousness was a murmured, "Sleep. I will be there when you wake up."

_"If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

 

> The sailing boat sways, ascending through heavy swell, precariously close to being submerged by the sea. Will swears and fights to take in the main sail and the jib down without being knocked out by the boom. Reckless of him to fall asleep when a storm has been forecast. Clothes wet Will tries to keep himself upright when his soles glide over the slippery deck. Spray coats everything, making the ropes slick in his hands and seeing farther then four or five feet nearly impossible.
> 
> It takes Will a while to get the sails corded, but he succeeds and can already concentrate on guiding the boat through the surrounding angry waters. It's tight for a while, waves threatening to keel the Nola over. Will is glad he's wearing a safety bound because he comes close to go by the board twice. When the storm dies down he's exhausted and wet. He probably looks like a drowned rat when the first rays of the sun catch him. Will smiles, sighs, and steers east again.
> 
> Towards Hannibal.

_"How small a thought it takes to fill a life."  
(Ludwig Wittgenstein)_

Will wakes up, brain sluggish, throat parched. Silently, with closed eyes he takes stock. The mattress sways and under the rolling motion pain throbs dull in his whole body, cumulating in his right shoulder and spiking like shards in his cheek. On the left side a warm, naked arm brushes his. Will inhales deeply, filtering salt, pungent disinfectant underlaid by choppery blood, and Hannibal's unique and slightly woodsy scent out of the air. Apparently they have survived the fall and are on a boat. For a moment he muses about the why and how they didn't find their end in the depth of the ocean just to let it slip from his mind.

It's irrelevant. They are here—alive and together.

He concentrates on swallowing and as soon as his tongue feels nimble enough Will opens his eyes and reaches for the man next to him.

"Hannibal?"

_~ finis ~_

**Author's Note:**

> Aquaphobe - adjective of Aquaphobia, the fear of water  
> Lėlė - Lithuanian for chrysalis  
> Mano meilė - Lithuanian for my love  
> Myliamasis - Lithuanian for beloved
> 
> It's safe to say that Hannibal loves philosophers and the classics and even though I don't read them often I do so too. Ludwig Wittgenstein's quotes were not only a great fit for this fic, they are a treat in general. I highly recommend his works for when you want to muse about humanity (in case you can relate to such urges).
> 
> My Hannibal folder is now filled with links to all things mentioned here: boat types, villas in Nassau, real estates in Cuba, the percentage distribution of languages in Louisiana, an amazing nautic miles to days calculator, and - priceless - the scripts of all 39 episodes. It was great fun to research for my first Hannigram story and I hope my love and admiration for the show and its main characters came across.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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